Ain’t it yearning, no more, if, a fear
When, each breath is, a lasting pilgrimage
Bearing, faith’s cross, to life’s, last frontier
Where ends, an age, in soul’s outrage!

I dare, sleep not, with a, morning’s dream
In the, throes of night, my every nerve, screams
Whilst my heart, mind, soul, seek to redeem
That joie de vivre, a lingering corpse, blasphemes!

“A Dead Man, Walking! Lo and behold!”
Urchins squeal, at me, in spirited streets
As I, sigh out from, Satan’s stranglehold
“That life, ain’t a life, whom death defeats!”

No rainbow sprouts, from my, splintered sight
Time slips out, of fist, of a, life’s castaway
I’m fear’s rosary, tethered to, faith’s, tattered kite
In An, Endless Wait, To That, Very Last Day … !

© 2020 Vikas Chandra